A Definite Answer
by quentin7
Summary: Something of a sequel to A Matter of Manhood, focusing on HarperRhade which means a nice slash warning.


Author: quentin7

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't make any money off them either.

Rating: M, and a slash warning.

Note: This is really something of a second chapter to my story "A Matter of Manhood," but I'm posting it as a separate story because it's so different. It's a little more serious, and it follows up with what happened with Harper and Rhade later that night. It depends on the events of the previous story, but it's not imperative that someone have read it. Oh, and I gotta admit, I have no idea, being new to show, if Nietzscheans can get drunk.

(Another note: The only feedback I got on continuing the first story asked for a Rhade/Trance pairing. I despair that I'm at a loss as to how to write Trance, let alone pair her with Rhade.)

A Definite Answer

Harper sat on the floor beside his bed, tinkering. Of course, he was always tinkering with something, making or breaking another of his toys. His brain usually also had some project or other to figure out. At times, what his mind was doing and what his fingers were doing didn't even connect, each process working on its own so that he ended up with a new and improved theory and object all at once. Occasionally, he couldn't remember tinkering at all—he would simply see something and know he'd changed it.

This was such a time. The small portable power source he held in his hands didn't even register with him, nor did he pay any real attention when he went to his console and began to create a new circuit schematic. The problem in the forefront of his brain was a recurring one, the rare sort that didn't yield to Harper a solution. Problems with people so rarely did.

Rhade. Harper muttered, "Damn that beautiful Nietzschean." It was often his mantra, but it was a useless one. It released his anger and renewed his lust all in one fell swoop. Of course, there had always been tension on his side before—hope, maybe. His brain dealt with possibility, not probability. Couldn't be a good engineer any other way. It had been an excruciating approach, and he had become complacent, waiting to get closer to Rhade, bit by bit. The waiting was just another blissfully gray area in his mind. The possibilities of his projects and theories were so intoxicating that he sometimes gave way to dwelling on them, feeling the various tensions pulling in all directions. But sometimes he was pushed to answering, by time or danger or simple curiosity. Then he either saw the solution plain as day or hit an impenetrable wall.

He supposed that finally kissing Rhade meant a solution…or a wall.

Kissing Dylan had been fun. He'd done it mainly because he was curious and because it would embarrass the hell out of Dylan. If Dylan were anyone else, he woldn't mind doing it again—the man had killer lips and smelled so nice. But that was entirely too complicated, and he knew that Dylan was altogether uncomfortable with leaving his cozy sexual preference.

The question was, did Rhade have the same issues? Apparently not, judging from his willing participation in the last round of the contest.

"No, the question is, would he even want me?"

Harper did the impossible for a while and banished Rhade from his mind, focusing instead on his newest gadget. He scrapped the latest schematics he'd designed and instead settled back on the floor, cracking open the thing's skeleton and examining the circuits more closely. His eyes closed involuntarily several times, and he knew he should go to sleep. Sleep, however, meant emptying his mind to let whatever—whoever—back in. It also meant getting a start on his hangover. So he stood up and began to pace the room with his creation in hand.

He had his back to the door when someone came in. Rhade sat down on his bed nonchalantly—in a drunk person's very obvious way.

Harper couldn't even begin to gage him. He looked artificially calm but still troubled. Determined to hide that, though, Harper thought.

Harper said, "What do you want?"

Rhade smiled. "This from the person who propositioned me a few hours ago."

"That was a joke."

Rhade scooted back until he could recline against Harper's pillows. "I see."  
"You're drunk."

Rhade laughed, an odd sound to Harper's ears because it wasn't nearly as sarcastic as normal. "I knew you were the smart guy on the ship."

"I didn't think Neitzscheans could get drunk."

"Oh, yes," he said sardonically. "Very carefully, and with a lot of alcohol." He sighed and lay there quietly for a moment or two while Harper pretended to ignore him. Harper began new schematics on the console because he couldn't—wouldn't—look his answer in the face, especially not an answer with eyes that could turn him into a babbling idiot. Rhade added, off-handedly, "I'm not really that drunk."

Harper began to get irritated. It was a great cover and a distraction. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know." He sat up. "I'd tell you if I understood anything right now."

"I'm so far from understanding your brain for you," he replied, attempting a flippant, half-sarcastic tone, the one he was so prone to. Harper eyed his power module on the floor beside the bed, taking a mental deep breath and retrieving it quickly without looking at him. He thought, Now, if only he'd just leave me alone. Harper felt as if maybe he was being toyed with. This seemed all good and fine, but Rhade would follow this chat with a mild but serious threat, and Harper would be at that brick wall. He began to curse that stupid kissing contest.

"I was hoping the Manliest Crew Member—"

"That's such bullshit. You all were humoring me."

Rhade stood up suddenly and walked over to where Harper stood, directly across the console from him. "I wasn't."

Harper heard a strange tone in Rhade's voice. Whatever it was, he was serious, so serious that Harper's heart began to hammer in his chest and he retreated to his bed, where he hunched over his project and avoided Rhade's gaze.

Rhade said, "Do you think I'm here because I'm mad at you?"

"No."

"Good. If I was going to be that angry over it, I'd never have done it."

"Okay."

"Did you ever have sex with Tyr?"

Harper actually dropped his power module on the floor and froze for a moment. The gears in his mind, fuzzier than ever, started turning as he wondered what prompted that question. It occurred to him that not answering would be a suitable response. It might even give him the upper hand in this increasingly odd conversation. Not that he had a good idea of how to respond anyway.

Rhade continued, "Because it feels like you've been with a Nietzschean before. You were different with me than you were with Dylan, and I figure it has to be that Tyr took a liking to you—for whatever reason I can't imagine—and taught you—"

Annoyed, Harper stood up and began to gesture wildly. "Oh, for crying out loud! I wouldn't have touched Tyr with a ten-meter pole. But, seriously, is it impossible that anyone would want to be with me? Is it impossible that I can kiss just fine without some superior being to tutor me? Is it impossible that I could just understand how to kiss you because I know you?" Harper bowed his head, suddenly aware that his mouth had been moving almost independently of his brain. When Harper looked up at him again, Rhade's eyes were fixed on him. Harper sat down again, and Rhade slumped onto the floor in front of the console.

Almost to himself, Rhade said, "I thought…I assumed…I always thought it was weird, the idea that he would…"

"Stoop to being with me?"

"Yes. Because you're a man. It doesn't make sense. There's no way to procreate with a man, and Tyr would have been…Anyway, I guess it does make sense, actually."

"Why?"

"You're so damned annoying sometimes. You're goofy as hell. You're a slob and you're the least physically intimidating person on this ship. Besides Trance."

"Thanks."

"No, listen. You're funny. You amuse me. I want to protect you, but then I see you handle yourself and I'm reminded that you don't need protecting, really. You're so open, but then again I see things brewing in your head and I know that you've got plans that I probably can't imagine. I'm at a complete loss with you, because I never know how to take you. Are you an evil genius, or are you just this lucky nerd who manages to stumble through life?" He stood up, self-consciously smoothing his hands over his hair. "I need to know why you kissed me like you did."

Harper smiled in spite of the considerable banging in his chest. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Dammit, Harper, you know it's not or else I wouldn't be here."

"You're such a sweet-talker," he said in that tone he'd had earlier in the evening, when he'd been the god of manhood. "Maybe you should tell me why it's so important for you to know."

"I need to see if I'm about to make a fool of myself."

"Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you again."

"And you want to know if I want you to?"

"Harper."

"Well, you've already admitted your feelings. You're already a fool if you're wrong."

"I don't think I'm wrong."

"No?"

"Not from the way you touched me before. You said you know me. I think you were telling the truth."

"Then you must be right. Kiss me again."

"Harper."

He relented a little. The miserable way he'd said his name, tinged with a little desperate lust, was too much. Harper said, "All I can say is if you're just now sorting out your feelings on the subject, I'm way ahead of you."

"I doubt that."

"Oh?"

"What you whispered in my ear—at least what I think you suggested—it wasn't a new idea for me." Harper felt the breath go out of his body, and he saw that Rhade was looking at him intently, that his eyes were glazed over with lust. "How long have you wanted me, Harper?"

The tone in his voice made Harper give up hope of being clever, so he was honest instead. "Oh, you know, probably since I met you."

Rhade stood at the foot of the bed, immobile. He was attempting a smirk, but a little too much lust and happiness crept into his face. He said, "Well, then you could have saved us both the trouble and jumped my bones back then."

Harper wanted to do just that, but because Rhade didn't move, neither did Harper. He could already see that there's would be a combative, difficult relationship, whatever it was. Harper said, "Why couldn't you go after me?"

"I never make the first move."

"That's safer."

"And maddening. I need to be wanted. And I need someone strong enough to challenge me."

"I challenge you?"

Rhade groaned and let out a shallow breath, smiling and shaking his head. "Yes. Right now you're challenging my self-control."

Harper got up from the side of the bed and Rhade's eyes followed him until the men were standing face to face, close enough for Harper to smell his familiar scent, to see the light flecks in his brown eyes. Harper said, "I want you to know that I've got just as much self-control as you. Luckily, it's not programmed into me to let that get in the way of what I want."

Rhade said, "Do you want me, Harper?"

It wasn't really a question but an invitation, so Harper pushed him to the bed. After a minute or two of frantic kissing, of pressing their bodies together with a force that would leave bruises, Harper tugged off Rhade's shirt and eyed his chest, still a little in disbelief of what was happening. Rhade reached up and ran his fingers down Harper's neck, stopping at the large purple hickey.

Harper said, "It really turns you on to see what you did to me, doesn't it?"

"Did I mention I can be a little possessive?" Rhade's hands slipped under Harper's shirt.

With every ounce of self-control he had, Harper shook his head. "Uh, uh. It's time for payback. I'll even let you choose the spot."

Rhade smiled and pulled off Harper's shirt. Skillfully pulling him down and rolling him over onto his back, Rhade tugged at his pants. He said, "What about your offer?"

Harper let out a shallow breath as Rhade's warm hands pulled off his pants. "Don't you have this backwards?"

"I'm going with my much earlier version," he said, kissing the spot of flesh right above the waistband of Harper's underwear.

His voice broke a little as his hips rose. "Oh, there'll be so much payback."

"I hope so."

It was only much later, when he awoke entangled in Rhade's legs, held tightly against his chest though Rhade was sound asleep, that he realized his brain was clear for once. No projects to create and recreate, and certainly not that one gray area that hadn't left him at peace in so long.

He thought, Who knew the answer was so simple. Then he drifted back to sleep.


End file.
